A People Person
by FlyMeAway8
Summary: Fred and George find it necessary to search for a new worker for their shop.


Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was unusually busy that week of September. Love potions were selling like hotcakes, canary creams were flying out the door, and the pygmy puffs had to be quickly bred to keep up stock. The joke shop, in all of it's smashing-banging-exploding glory, had never seen so many customers.

Fred and George gleefully soaked up their earnings, Fred at the front of the shop with the cash register and George feverishly stalking the shelves.

Wednesday evening ended with a band (literally, seeing as how a young Neville Longbottom look-a-like knocked over an exploding snap display). As George took the mid-week inventory, Fred's voice floated up to him from the bottom floor of the shop.

"We need to hire someone else… if it'll keep up like this, we might drop dead from exhaustion. That or my cheeks'll fall off from smiling so often."

George grinned to himself. "And who will interview this… candidate?"

Fred's ginger head popped into sight at the bottom of the staircase.

"You."

George snorted. But you're the people-person, dear brother."

Fred seemed to ponder this, until a slow smile spread across his face. "You know George," he said with a wink. "You're right. I'll interview 'em." He quickly went back to counting the sickles from the register.

George's eyebrows raised, but he thought it better to shrug off his brother's behaviors and - what did Hermione say? - not look a gift horse in the mouth. Less work, which quite frankly was the answer to his prayers. Sometimes it seemed a wonder that he could walk without falling over in a dead faint. And with that thought, he yawned and climbed the steps to his and Fred's flat. It was rather nifty, having his flat right above the shop. Easy for nights like this, when he just wanted to sleep.

He opened his bedroom door, smiling at the rubbish strewn about. Crumpled up pieces of paper and sweet packages littered the floor, reminding him of his and his brother's old room at the Burrow.

He changed into his bed clothes, stopping to open his window before clambering into bed. From his window, he could see the whole of Diagon Alley. The twinkling lights of Gringotts and the quiet hoots of the inhabitants in Eeylops lulled him to sleep.

The next morning came fast; George found that Thursday was the busiest day of the entire week. Every other minute, it seemed, an enthusiastic first or second year would bustle up to him, asking for the latest shipment of his daydreaming potion. It was exasperating- having to point the same way every ten seconds. So when he felt a tap on his shoulder, he turned briskly and with clenched jaw.

"The daydreaming potions are _**downst**_- oh."

Instead of the third year he had expected, the inquirer was an older looking girl with straight black hair. Maybe a seventh year, if not older.

"I-I- uhm," she stuttered, tucking a strand behind her ear. "I was actually wondering about your pygmy puffs."

She pointed a finger to their enclosure, biting her lip. She was pretty, George observed as she turned back to face him. Beautiful, actually. "What about them?" he asked attempting to keep the blush from his face.

She smiled brightly, her white teeth gleaming. "They're not there."  
>George did a double take - the cage for the puffs was wide open, and several seemed to be hopping about on the floor.<p>

"Merlin's saggy left- FRED." His brother instantly apparated to his side.

"Yes, brother of mine?" He asked George, smiling. He glanced at the girl standing there, quickly forgetting about his brother.

"Hello there… I'm Fred. The handsome twin." He stuck out a hand. "And you are?"

The girl half-smiled, shaking his hand firmly. "Katie. Now, about your pygmy puffs…?"

"What about them?" he asked, eyes never leaving the girl.

"THEY'RE LOOSE, YOU GIT."

George's yell startled Fred into attention. He raised his eyebrows with a question.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yes," George said. "Round them up."

"Why me?"

"Because I'm busy."

"Busy with this beautiful girl? She hardly looks a handful." Fred remarked, winking. Katie made a noise that sounded distinctly like 'pfft.' and rolled her eyes.

"Just… go." George said, tight lipped.

"Fine, fine. Oh, and brother?"

"Yes, Fredrick?"

"LOVE YOU."

With that, Fred slipped down the gilt banister separating the floors. He laughed happily all the way down.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Fred Weasley." George said, turning back to the shelves. Katie hadn't yet left, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pull out a small flier from her shoulder bag.

"Er…"

George spun on his heel, facing the gorgeous girl again. She had eyes, he noticed, that seemed to be the exact color of the sky before it snowed.

"Y-yeah?" he responded, startled.

"You're looking for work?" She held up a flier.

He took it from her, frowning. He didn't put up a flier…

But examining it closely, he could see who did.

The ad asked specifically for a pretty girl with a sense of humor to work in the shop part time. She must be good with people, a Hogwarts graduate, and… willing to date George.

He looked up at her in surprise. A smirk quickly took over her features. "Your brother is letting them in one by one. There is quite a line, so I've heard."

George sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And you fell for this?"

"No. But it got me in quite quickly, among this ruckus, didn't it? Your brother thinks me quite nice, so I didn't correct him."

George smiled at her, obviously unbelieving.

"I'll just go buy that puff now. See you, George."

George, grinning wolfishly, watched her walk away. Just as she began to descend, she looked back at him with her steely eyes. She was clearly trying to decide about something.

Swiftly, she jogged back to his side, and kissed his cheek. "Make sure to turn that flier over, eh?"

She winked and disappeared.

He flipped over the flimsy piece of paper, to find swirled handwriting.

_Just for the record, though. I would certainly date you, if you'd let me have the job.  
>Of course, I'll have to be interviewed. The Three Broomsticks?<em>

_6:00 pm, don't be late_

-Katie


End file.
